by J P Sayle
“What the fuck do you want? Haven’t you already done enough? And where the hell is my cat?”
Aaden’s hot breath mingled with hers as she tried not to quake in fear at the black rage pouring over her.
“I… really… err… well… you see… I’mnotallthatsure.” Her stuttering turned into one long sentence as she rushed to get the words out before Aaden did something they both might regret.
His anger only seemed to increase, if it was at all possible.
“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Mean. You’re. Not. Sure.” He enunciated each word, struggling to get past the seething rage that was bubbling in his veins.
His worry over Max and his lack of response for the last three days had kept him on a knife’s edge. An edge he was very close to slipping off, not only cutting himself but anyone else who was close enough to fall with him.
Brad’s Princess was also missing, making the plot thicken. For days, both Brad and he had been at the end of their tethers. Brad was so upset, not getting why Aaden couldn’t reach Max to ask about Princess’s whereabouts. The resulting tears when he’d had to tell Brad Max wasn’t answering him made him hide from Martin’s growing frustration. Aaden’s jaw ached as his perfect white teeth ground together with the urge to shake the answers out of Christina. He knew without a shadow of a doubt the little witch had them.
He grabbed a hold of her retreating form, gripping her padded coat. He frogmarched her into the house, overlooking her indignant squealing as he plonked her down on the plastic-covered leather sofa none to gently.
He heard Brody stomp in behind him. His deep baritone voice sounded harsh as he pushed Aaden back from the sofa and away from Christina.
“What the fuck, mate? When do you manhandle women like th…”
Aaden snarled over the top of Brody, not letting him finish. “That is no women, Brody. That is a bitch of a witch.”
Aaden was instantly sorry for blurting it out like that when Brody blanched. His face bleached of all colour as his eyes zeroed back to the sofa.
Brody’s sudden tension had Aaden stepping purposefully towards the couch. He wanted to sigh when he heard Greg stomp into the room muttering angrily about “what else could possibly go wrong today.”
Aaden prayed nothing. This whole situation was starting to make him think that what they’d previously been through uniting past souls was a walk in the park compared to this crap.
He exhaled, towering over the little cowbag. He kept a watchful eye on her, just in case she tried to poof from the room before he had a chance to get answers. He let a feral snarl escape before he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Where is Max? I won’t ask you again.” The implied threat had her eyes widen before a spark of anger lit the hazel, bleeding the colour until they were fully black.
Her chin thrust out. “I don’t know. He was with the king the last time I saw him a couple of days ago.” She clamped her lips together when the urge to tell them what had happened wanted to spill out.
Aaden’s brows shot up under his long dark fringe, making them disappear, all the while struggling to swallow what she had just said. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, incredulous. It took him several long moments to pull his head out of his arse and his thoughts into some order.
“What do you mean with the king? Are you talking about the king of the otherworld, Manannán? Fuck! That world exists, like as a place? Shit!” Aaden felt reality slipping through his fingers. He saw the honesty shine out of her eyes as she nodded. Well, you bastard, who knew!
Aaden gave a heartfelt sigh when his pulse skyrocketed at the possibilities. He yanked his head back in the game, trying to remember what he’d been asking. “Why would Max be in the otherworld of all places? What have we done now to warrant this, for pity’s sake?”
Aaden looked over to Greg as he heard edge of fear in his own voice. His sky blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He could feel his fear pumping off him in waves, making it hard for Aaden not go and comfort him. Greg’s eyes pleaded with Aaden to get the answers they needed as he chewed his plump lower lip between his even white teeth.
Aaden stayed put. Resigned, he turned back to Christina. He waited to see if she was going to answer his earlier questions. The silence seemed to stretch to breaking point as he willed her to respond.
Aaden almost sagged in relief when she started talking until his brain processed what she was saying.
His eyes grew to the size of saucers at the incredulousness that just kept coming.
“I was summoned on Christmas day to the king’s chamber. Max and Princess were already present when I got there.” Her belligerent scowl died as quickly as it came as she carried on speaking. “Max has tied himself to Princess irrevocably. It happened when she was shot and it made them soulmates. Only Princess didn’t know this.”
Aaden was sure he’d heard her mutter “neither did I,” but he was distracted when he heard Nick thumping around above him before his bedroom door slammed open and he banged down the stairs.
Now what!
This is all I need. An angry brother when I still don’t have all the answers.
Nick
Nick moved the saw with precision over the edge of the marble. He was grateful for his goggles and his mask because the grit flying from the saw as it glided over the marble was nasty. He gave the patio door a quick glance. With rivulet of drizzle running down the glass, his hope of moving this dirty task outside to finish off died.
He continued, ensuring he didn’t go anywhere near the four large hands gripping the marble, keeping it steady while he worked. He sighed in satisfaction when the mark he’d drawn disappeared. Grinning under his mask, Nick lifted the saw and switched off the motor. His free hand smoothed over the new edge. Distracted, he spoke without looking up. “I think that should do. It may need another millimetre or two, but I’m hopeful that should fit now.”
“I’d hope a workman would be a little bit more than hopeful.”
Nick jolted, turning round at the snotty unfamiliar voice behind him. Nick’s knuckles gleamed white as he held on to the saw. His eyes narrowed on the tall, well-dressed dude standing in front of him. Authority oozed from his powerful frame as he stared down his pointy nose at Nick as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock. The inspection was followed with a dismissive flick of his well-groomed dark hair.
The fact that the guy looked as if he’d just stepped out of a high-fashion magazine and dropped into the filthy kitchen made Nick all too aware of how grubby he probably looked right then. The guy’s impeccable brows rose, and a sense of foreboding settled inside Nick’s chest. He struggled to take a breath, Nick’s eyes narrowed when Brody stepped between him and the man as if protecting one of them, though he wasn’t sure which one of them Brody was trying to shield.
The rigidity in Brody’s body as he peeled the mask off his face forced Nick to brace. For some reason, he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Brody was about to say. The urge to cover Brody’s mouth and stop him was great, and he clutched the saw tighter.
Nick’s heart stuttered. The deep timbre of Brody’s voice sliced through the tiny shred of hope he’d held on to that there could be more between them. Nick was surprised when he looked down that there wasn’t any blood to be seen on his T-shirt as he rubbed at the pain sitting in the middle of his chest. Under his sweaty palm, he felt his heart battling to escape his sternum, and he folded his slim shoulders in.
“Luke, let me introduce you to Aaden and his brother, Nick. And that’s Greg, who let you in.”
Nick froze when Brody’s large hands waved in their directions as he introduced his boyfriend. The stunned silence lasted seconds, but Nick was convinced it felt like forever before Brody spoke again. Nick found it impossible to look away from the disaster in front of him when Luke didn’t answer. Instead he grabbed hold of Brody, pinning him to his muscular chest. His satiny, shiny lips claimed Brody in a fierce kiss. The strangled moan Brody released finally freed Nick
from his paralysis.
Nick dropped the saw on the counter, uncaring if it marked the marble he’d been lovingly working on. He ripped of his mask and goggles, dropping them to the floor. He ran past Brody, who seemed lost in the lusty embrace of his boyfriend.
He choked back a sob, sniffing. He swiped at his wet cheeks, hiding his face. He let his hair fall forward as he passed what appeared to be a dumbfounded Aaden and Greg. The pair of them looked as if they’d been tasered, their bodies shocked into complete stillness in the moment.
Nick jogged up the stairs, his heavy boots clattering on the bare wood. The resounding bang when the door slammed shut did little to placate the burning jealousy that slithered in his veins. His body felt as volatile as a hissing rattlesnake that gave a warning when it was about to give a venomous strike. The poisonous bite destroying everything in its path as it flowed through the body, much like Luke had demolished Nick’s hope of more with Brody.
Who was I kidding!
Nick panted, glaring at the door. His hands planted on the door to prevent himself from going back down and pummelling that smug fucking bastard’s face for putting his hands all over Brody’s arse.
Nick heaved and fell to his knees. He hugged his stomach while he struggled to pull in a breath. His lungs screamed for air. He wheezed past the need to vomit his meagre breakfast all over the varnished wood in front of him.
The plopping sounds of his tears hitting the ground mixed with his heaved breaths. His blurry gaze was immersed in the ever-growing wet spot on the floor by his knees. The tears dripped off the end of his nose. He sniffed, wiping his lower face to stop the snot joining the fray.
Nick couldn’t seem to find it himself to care at the mess he was making. He watched the water attach itself to the layer of dust on the floor, clumping together. The tears didn’t stand a chance against the dirt. Much like him against Luke, it was a losing battle. How could Brody fancy me when he clearly has a type he goes for? It clearly wasn’t small and blond, that was for sure.
Nick tilted his head as his tears slid down his chilled cheeks. He choked on his sobs, feeling his pity party ramp up to full swing. His watery gaze searched the room for anything to stop the misery that was dancing all over his aching heart.
His mind latched on to an idea which formed when he spotted his half-unpacked bag by the far wall. He stood on shaky legs, lifting the edge of the dirty T-shirt he was wearing. He scrubbed at his sopping cheeks, blowing his nose on the edge before peeling it off and throwing it on top of the pile of dirty clothes sitting in the corner of the room.
He stomped to his bag before he could change his mind. Nick grabbed haphazardly at the clothes on the floor. Dirty and clean were rammed into the open bag, disregarding his OCD compulsion to fold and split the clean from the dirty. He forced himself to keep packing when the need to escape chased away his need for neatness.
He gave the room a final sweep, making sure he’d left nothing obvious lying around. His hands itched to strip the unmade bed and set the room to rights. He squashed the urge, stalking to the door. When he slung the bag over his shoulder, he realised he was topless.
He looked down at his bare hairless chest, moaning in despair that he’d packed the snot-ridden T-shirt with his clean tops. He dropped the bag with a thud. Opening it, he yanked out the first top that looked reasonably clean. He pulled the long-sleeved biker slogan top over his head, dragging it down his chilled skin. Satisfied he was decent, he hoisted the bag back over his shoulder and left the room.
He stomped down the stairs, not prepared to spend one more minute in the house with Brody and his boyfriend. Nick’s lips peeled back at the very idea of having to watch that fucker touch Brody. His waning anger seemed to grab hold of the oxygen around him and waft over the embers of his declining resentment, reigniting it. Refuelled, the fury carried him back down to the others.
His feet faltered at the bottom of the stairs as he heard a familiar voice coming from the lounge.
Why now, for fuck’s sake.
His thoughts about escaping were derailed by a certain witchy poo.
Nick shifted his bag over his shoulder, gripping it tightly. He stalked into the lounge as if preparing for battle. His shoulders rolled back, and with a fierce glare, he took in the scene in front of him. The first thing he noticed was the absence of Luke. He found his eyes straying to Brody. His dirt-streaked face held a myriad of emotions along with a nasty dark red handprint.
Nick couldn’t make head nor tails of the emotions, but he sure as hell knew what had happened to Brody’s cheek. A crimson hue covered one side of Brody’s face. The colour resembled the fury boiling inside him. As a tidal wave, it washed away all common sense at the thought of the fucker laying hands on Brody. His fists clenched. He was glad that Luke wasn’t there because he wasn’t sure what he would have done to him right then and there.
Nick’s hands shook so bad he had to drop the bag he was carrying before he ended up firing it at someone by accident. Not breaking eye contact with Brody, he fired silent questions at him. His eyes asked for the answers his heart wanted when his brain couldn’t seem to engage his mouth to ask.
The weight of the tension filling the room held everyone in place as if it were a lead blanket.
“Well, this isn’t awkward much. I thought the twelve disasters of Christmas was bad enough! Now we seem to have gone straight from the twilight zone to another world. This situation just keeps on giving, hey?”
Greg’s melodic voice stating the obvious somehow broke the heaviness in the room, allowing everyone to breathe.
Greg giggled and, striding to Aaden, encircled his waist. His clean, dust-free skinny jeans and powder blue ribbed jumper encasing lean arms , showed where Greg had been all morning, and it clearly wasn’t in the kitchen where all the messy work was to be found. No, Nick knew Greg had spent the morning rearranging Aaden’s wardrobe to fit all the clothes he helped pack yesterday. Now that he was officially living with Aaden, Greg had harangued him until he’d agreed to cart all the stuff in his van when he couldn’t fit in his own Skoda.
Nick ignored how he’d griped and moaned about the amount of shit that Greg wanted moved. It seemed the Gods had finally taken pity on him with Greg’s now empty home, giving him the perfect place to escape.
He tilted his head, chewing his thumb, and considered how he was going to ask Greg if he could rent his house for a few weeks. And let him stay clear of Brody and his boyfriend.
Nick’s brows met with force when Greg’s sky-blue eyes lit with a mischievous twinkle right before he batted his long golden-red eyelashes at him. The knowing gleam in Greg’s eyes had Nick shift uncomfortably. He had the feeling Greg was about to have some fun at his expense. He blew his floppy fringe out of his face as he needed to keep a closer eye on him.
When Greg opened his mouth, Nick stood still, only to find Aaden beat Greg to the punch.
“Why the heck have you got your bag with you? Is that packed? Fucking hell! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Aaden pinched the top of his nose, trying to fight past the turmoil inside his head. He didn’t need this on top of everything else. His worry over the past few days left him with little patience, and it seemed his brother was trying to take the last small thimble full he had left.
Aaden barrelled on when Nick gave him a sheepish look.
“Jesus H Christ! Okay, Nick, you park your arse. You’re not going anywhere until all the mess is sorted out.” Aaden gave Brody a feral snarl as he stomped to the newly fitted wood-burning stove after releasing Greg and giving his arm a reassuring pat.
Aaden was distracted for a moment by the warm sense of pride he felt when he surveyed the now completed room. It spread when Greg’s beautiful mouth tilted up. The eyes glowing towards him were filled with love. Love he knew that was reflected in his own eyes. Aaden gave Greg a sultry smile before it dropped, and he moved to face Christina, wanting answers. His brows drew together with the urge to attempt to read Christina’s tho
ughts.
Aaden grumped at Greg’s internal “no” and little headshake. He narrowed his gaze for a second on his unrepentant boyfriend, who just stared him down until he huffed, giving his agreement: no snooping.
He shook his head, holding up his hand to keep everyone silent. Not that it was needed by the obvious avoidance everyone was doing. He gave himself a moment to put his thoughts in order.
“Right, we’re going to sort all this shit out. Then we are going to go back into the kitchen and get it finished. Got it?” He made sure to look at everyone plus Christina, whose hazel eyes ate up her face.
He hid the chuckle behind his hand with a cough. His humour was restored for a moment at her alarm at being included.
“Who wants to go first?” At Aaden’s question, everyone looked anywhere but at him. He sighed but wasn’t truly surprised at the lack of response.
“Me then. Max has been missing for a few days, and I can’t seem to talk to him wherever he…”
“The otherworld is cloaked by magic. Your connection to Max will temporarily have been severed because of the magic that hides the world from your reality. He won’t be able to hear or see you, and he won’t be able to use any of his powers down there.”
Christina’s interruption and sudden helpfulness caused Aaden to give her a considering look, even when his mind boggled at what she was telling him.
“Do you know how long he’s going to be down there?”
Aaden tensed at the shake of her head. Knots formed in his back and tightened his shoulder muscles.
“Do you know why he was taken down there?”
This time he could see she had the answer when her gaze wavered from his. His gut clenched in fear when she moved her frightened gaze to Nick, then Brody.
Nick jumped up off the plastic-covered leather chair he’d been perched on when her eyes landed on him. “What has this got to do with me? For fuck’s sake, can’t you leave me out of this for once. What the hell did I ever do to you? Hey, tell me.”